


Aftereffects

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Trauma, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail needs to speak with Will after telling Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftereffects

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Trou Normand. You've been warned.

Killing’s part of nature.

That’s what he always said to me. Once, I think I even believed it. But other people don’t seem to have that streak in them, that drive to pursue their prey and lure them into a trap where there was only one option. That was just him.

Freddie Lounds wants me to tell my story. I don’t even know what that is any more. There are portions to it that the FBI knows, and portions that Dr. Bloom knows. And now Hannibal knows the facts, even if I haven’t told him what it felt like, to be the bait in the trap. He says I’m not a monster.

I wonder if he’s right.

Will though, I don’t know what he thinks of me. He looks at me with new uncertainty in his eyes. He’s been wrong all along. I've killed, and he hasn't seen it until now.

He looks at me like he thinks he’s broken. I can’t fix that.

Hannibal says he’ll keep our secret. Ours, it belongs to both of us now. I’m not so sure. There’s only one way to be certain.

I have to talk to Will.

*  *  *

It’s so easy to escape, like the hospital knows I leave, they don’t really have the time or the employees to watch me all the time.

The taxi ride takes forever. I pay the driver with a credit card, and he doesn’t even blink at the name. Maybe he doesn’t watch the news. Maybe he doesn't care. I wait until he drives away before walking around behind the house.

There are lights on and the door opens when I turn the knob.

I never knew Will had many dogs. They’re all just sitting there in the kitchen, watching me when I come through the door. I’m no threat to them and they know it. Animals are better than people in that respect. One of them pads forward, nuzzling at my hand. My cheeks feel wet. It’s just a dog, but so many people will never want to touch me. Hannibal did though. He held me and he knew the truth.

I brush at my cheeks and pet the dog, telling it that it’s lucky. The dog blinks at me like, ‘Duh, I know that.”

“Abigail.” Will stops in the doorway, wiping his hands on a towel. “How did you,”

 “The back door was unlocked.” That isn’t the question he was asking, but it’s easier to answer.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He sets the towel down and turns to face me.

He looks at me. I’ve noticed that. When he doesn’t look at other people, Will Graham looks at me. Whether it’s guilt, or curiosity, I don’t care. There’s comfort found in his eyes.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“You just saw me at dinner.”

“And you left right after.”

Will nods, leaning back against the counter. His arms fold naturally against his chest. Defensive, but not against me. More towards himself.

“I needed to…think.”

“About me.”

“Yes.”

Panic, like a bird’s trapped in my throat, beating its wings to escape. “Hannibal says you won’t tell.”

Will’s chuckle is uneasy, but true. “He’s not wrong.”

“Do you want to tell?” The dog is still nuzzling at my hand. I want to cling to its fur.

“I want…I just wish I knew I was making the right decision.”

“Are you scared of me?” He wouldn’t be the first. He won’t be the last. I wonder sometimes if I’ve simply become a story other people tell. If I write the book, they’ll know what I want them to know. There’s reassurance in that. But what if it backfires? What if the door catches, and I can’t close it again?

Maybe Hannibal’s right.

Will still hasn’t answered. His hands drop to rest on the counter. “I’m scared of what’s happened to you. I’m scared that I’m too much a part of that.”

“You said I was important to you _.” Hannibal said you’d protect me. Both of you._ I want that. I want safety and security and family.

“I meant that.”

“Then, it doesn’t matter.” I can feel the tears starting again. If there’s something I could change, it’d be that. That inability to control what I’m feeling. Simple, basic emotions that give you away.

Will hesitates, and then he’s kneeling in front of me, hands on my knees as my shoulders shake. “Abigail, I want to do what’s best for you.”

“Then hold me.” My voice chokes, but he hears. His hands are gentle around me. I breathe in the scent of his shirt, oil and dog and outdoors. He smells like the world outside, and it makes me sob harder because I love that scent. It’s home.

Will just holds me, kneeling there on his kitchen floor.

“I should take you back.” He murmurs.

“I want to stay here.”

“I’m not sure if that’s…” He draws back and looks at me. “Okay.”

Will gives me a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in, hiding a chuckle at the sight of me in them when I come out of the bathroom.

His bed smells like him too. I press my face into the pillow, breathing it in. There’s a footstep in the hallway and I straighten up.

“I’ll…sleep downstairs.” Will says awkwardly.

“Aren’t you going to sleep here?” I want him here, to know he’s close.

“Abigail, that’s,”

“When I was little, and had nightmares, it helped to have someone hold me until I slept.”

Will pulls his glasses off, studying himself in them as he wipes the glass with his shirt, then puts them back. “Your father did that.”

It’s easy to nod.

Will doesn’t say anything more. He digs around in his closet for a long time, until finally he unearths a pair of pajama pants. Grabbing a fresh t-shirt as well, he goes out to change.

I turn on my side, and smile into the pillow.

He slips into bed quietly, and turns out the light. The weight of him settles against my back and his arms close tentatively around me.

“Is this all right?”

“Yes.” I can breathe now. The bird is gone.

Will exhales and the motion of his chest brushes my back. Here in the dark, I feel his tension relax, and know I won’t regret this lie.

I never had nightmares when I was little. The nightmares belong to the present, but Will’s warmth at my back, and the memory of Hannibal’s arms soothes me, and I sleep peacefully.


End file.
